Champion
by all-dem-fandoms
Summary: Beatrice Prior. World Champion. Tobias Eaton. World Champion. Tris is content. She lives a great life as the three time Irish Step Dancing World Champion. Until Tobias shows up with a boat load of secrets he's not willing to share. With Nationals right around the corner Tobias is offsetting Tris' game with his weird training tactics. Follow Tris through the world of Irish Dance.
1. Chapter 1

TRIS

It was a normal Saturday evening in June. School had let out for summer break and the Dauntless Academy of Irish Dance is in full Nationals swing. Workshops had just ended for the day and Bud's Cafe is jam packed with sweaty dancers eagerly inhaling their chocolate cake and burgers. I sat at my usual table, all the way in the far right corner where the floor to ceiling windows meet. My feet tap out my weak point, my reel(1) lead(2), as my friends come bearing gifts, or food. I sit with the same people after every class, my second family, Christina, Will, Marlene, Lynn, Shauna, Zeke and lastly Uriah. We all go to the same school together since we live in the same area around our dance school that my parents own.

My parents own five Irish dancing Studios in Chicago, Abnegation the first and most traditional that I attended before we opened Dauntless. Over the years we've also opened Candor, Amity, and Erudite. My father runs Erudite along with Jeanine Matthews a cranky older women that worries more about the money we bring in more than the way we dance. My twin brother Caleb attends my father's classes at Erudite. My mother and my uncle Max manage Dauntless with a bit of my dad's help. Amity is managed by an overly peppy woman with long dark hair that goes by the name of Johanna Reyes. Candor is ran by Meg King a strict teacher in her mid-twenties who only seems to wear a black and white striped Adidas track suit and black practice shoes. Lastly the Abnegation studio is ran by strict and traditional Marcus Eaton, his son, who has been taking only private lessons since the year I left when my parents opened Dauntless, Tobias Eaton is said to be phenomenal. They call him Four in the dance world due to his winning streak of coming first at Worlds for the past four years. That reminds me. It actually wasn't that normal of a June day.

"I heard that his first solo was at four," Shauna offers.

"I heard that he hasn't been to a full class since he was four!" Christina exclaims.

"What's with all the fours?" Uriah asks.

"Dunno," Marlene begins. "But I know the first year he won Nationals his number was four, I saw a picture," Everyone at the table shivers a bit except for Zeke who defends Four because they're friends in school and outside of dance. No, we don't usually sit around talking about how great Four Eaton is. As I keep trying to explain today is not normal. The big rumor is that Four Eaton will transferring to our studio on Monday. Just great. Now everyone can compare me to him like my own friends have been doing for the past half hour. Traitors. It's not like I've had my own share of success. I ,Beatrice Prior, win my Oireachtas every year, I won North American Nationals six times, Worlds three times, Great Britons twice and All Irelands four times and I have at least five years of dancing left.

"Can I just have my burger?" I grumble I'm already sick of this Four guy and I've only talked to him two or three times outside of dance since he's in a bunch of my classes at school. I have to say though, he's quite a looker and has a killer turnout(3).

"Really Tris? You sure you don't want a napkin? You know to clean up all that _jelly_ you've got all over your face?" Uriah snickers and I glare at causing him to stop immediately.

"I'm not jealous. He's kind of my friend because if school. Whoever Four Eaton is I will work with him in a professional fashion!" I say firmly. Staring down each face at the table.

"Well that's good to hear," I wheel around to see none other than Natalie Prior, my mother, her hair is tied back and her thin but muscular body still sparkles with the satisfying sheen of sweat your receive after a hard day's work. The table greets her with a chorus of hellos. Her green eyes bore into my own multi colored blue ones. "Can I borrow her for a second?" she asks putting her hand on my shoulder. My table agrees of course.

My mother leads me back to a quiet area of the cafe. I have a feeling that what she's going going to say, like everything else today, is about Four Eaton. "I heard you talking about Marcus' son, I suppose you know who he is?" Surprise surprise. I nod in response. "There have been some recent, er, complications in Tobias' life and Marcus is not available to take care of him," My mother begins. She stuttered; she never stutters. This is serious. "Tobias will be staying and training with us until further notice," My mouth hangs open as I stare. Four Eaton, as in the Irish dance heartthrob, practically a celebrity since he's been featured in countless tv specials (I was also featured in half of his.) My arch nemesis (who has been nothing but nice to me.), my biggest competition and I living under the same roof, sharing the studio in our basement, eating dinner at the same table. I'm speechless. My mother smiles at me sadly. "I'm going to clean up the studio okay? Text me when you're done eating," My mother states in a gentle voice.

I hear her say something about how Four will be there when we get home before she walks away. My eyes follow her small blonde head through the cafe and even out into the street until I lose sight of her. My mother is only a few inches taller than me and truthfully I don't think I will grow any taller than her. Everyone says we look exactly alike with the same slight pale bodies and wavy cornsilk hair. Our faces are almost identical, though she is beautiful and I am merely cute, with our long thin noses and large round eyes; though where her irises are a intense emerald green and mine are a sparkling mix of several shades of blue and green. I clomp back over to my table, a weird angry feeling weighing me down.

My friends stare at me as I sit down and I sigh. "We'll it looks like I've got a new housemate," I begin "And his name is Four Eaton,"

TOBIAS

Andrew Prior is a very reasonable man. He doesn't push me to talk, he doesn't gush about me. The ride is comfortably silent and I like it. "Where do you go to school?" Mr. Prior asks finally breaking the silence with a reasonable question.

"I go to Chicago Academy for Gifted Students on an engineering and preforming arts scholarship." I reply and his face lights a bit.

"My children go there. They both are in the preforming arts program but Caleb also goes for medical and Beatrice goes for engineering like you," He says and my eyebrows raise.

"Beatrice Prior?" I ask she's one of Zeke's little brother's best friends. Mr. Prior nods.

"You know her?" He asks, keeping his watery blue eyes on the road. I know Natalie and Caleb Prior have the same bright green eye color from different dance school wide events. Beatrice, Tris as Zeke calls her, though seems to have a hazel mix of green and gray and blue.

"We're mutual friends I've only talked to her a few times, she's got a killer sense of humor." I reply "She won worlds last year right?" I ask and Mr. Prior nods in return as we pull into a simple gray split level home.

I help him with my bags and I'm in shock when I see that all my trophies are already lining the walls in the room I'll be staying in. My mouth falls open slightly. I stutter out a thank you and he smiles wryly before telling me to call him Andrew and that Natalie will be bringing home dinner.

I almost sigh in relief when he leaves without uttering a word about my father. I smile a bit at the room, somehow I'm not scared of simple things anymore. Household items aren't weapons and I feel a huge weight lifted off my chest, finally for the first time in years since my mother left. I feel stronger. In control. Since my mother walked out when I was four my father pushed hard. Too hard. My legendary private classes were more of Marcus screaming at and hitting me than dancing. I had to be perfect every single time, it was inhuman but I'm still here today so I guess it worked. One day when I was playing around with the studio's computer I found that the room my father taught me in had cameras and I decided to bring my evidence to the police. Of course that doesn't cover the worst of it which happens at home whipping me with a belt, locking me in the hall closet, a six foot five inch tall boy. He was guilty, I had evidence and the Priors offered to take me in until I could find a stable home.

I've unpacked most of my clothes and hung my vest(4) in the closet when I hear the front door open an someone thunder up the stairs.

"Caleb Michael Prior do not run up the stairs!" I hear Andrew yell from somewhere in the house.

"Sorry!" Caleb yells back, right outside of my open door. He sticks his head into the room "Hey, I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," I shrug and stand up, placing my competition* heavies(5) and my reel shoes(6) shoes on top of my dresser. Caleb steps into the room and offers me his hand and shake it firmly. "I'm Caleb," He offers

"Tobias," I return and he smiles a bit. I don't see Caleb as much as I see Tris in school since his sub-focus is medical. He's just come from dance I can tell from the gym bag slung over his shoulder and the sheen of sweat on his face.

"Practice room is in the basement, you're welcome to use it but I don't recommend interfering with Tris' training schedule. I swear that girl is a monster," He advises and I laugh a little. Caleb tells me he'll see me at dinner and leaves me to finish unpacking. Caleb Prior, I rack my brain for his titles, he won his Oireachtas(7) four times, Nationals four times, Worlds twice all Ireland's twice(8) and Great Britons(9) once. Impressive. He doesn't look much like his sister, tanner with his mother's eyes and a more tousled boyish version of his father's dark hair. I begin to arrange the way my trophies always go. My worlds trophies and medals always go on my dresser except for the newest one which goes on my nightstand. I used to keep all my medals in a box under my bed but the shelf over my bed is covered in hooks so carefully hang each medal, deciding to keep my grade(10) medals in front, it'll remind me that I was a beginner once. On top of the shelf I place all my grade trophies and the picture of Zeke and I at Worlds last year. The other shelves holds ten years worth of Championship trophies. Lastly the floor in front of the radiator has all of my majors trophies that aren't first place at worlds standing at attention in a straight line. I plug my phone dock into the wall and put it on the nightstand before straightening up and going to look for the bathroom.

As I venture down the hall I find that there are four other doors, one is left open. I stick my head in the room with the open door, curious of what's inside. It's obviously a bed room, just a bit bigger than mine. The walls are painted a light blue and the wood flooring is pale maple like mine. It's a girls room. I take another step in. Trophies. Trophies everywhere. I'm guessing the Priors went to most of the feises(11) in the area since they owned such a big and successful school. All of the Major first place trophies are on her dresser flanked by tons of medals from Majors(12) and her three worlds crown. The rest of her major trophies line the shelves above her dresser. What surprises me the most is her book shelf, it's completely full without a crack to spare I never took Tris Prior as the reading type. On top of the book shelf are all her grade trophies. A cork board hangs over her desk it's mostly pictures. Andrew Prior throwing Tris in the air after she won Worlds for the first time in the girls and boys ten and eleven. Christina and Tris at Disney Land for Nationals last year, it's quite a sight since Tris' legs are orange and her top half is white(13); Tris sports a first place sash and Christina wears a fourth place sash(14). Tris sits on top of the worlds podium, Natalie placing Tris' Worlds' crown on her head as Tris' uncle Max holds her hand; girls thirteen and fourteen. Tris standing all alone on stage at the top of the podium, her midnight blue and silver dress sparkles under the lights she wears a blonde bun wig with a silver crown made of large Swarovski jems, her silver tiara is covered by her Worlds crown and she holds the familiar golden ball trophy; this past year, girls fourteen and fifteen. One of my favorites is the one I'm in its her and Zeke, Uriah and I at the United Faction School of Irish Dance feis(15) Tris is standing with her pale arms barely reaching around Uriah and Zeke, I stand next to Uriah; Uriah got first in boys under sixteen, Tris had gotten first in girls under sixteen, and Zeke had beat me that day and gotten first in boys under seventeen, I came in a close second.

"Can I help you?" A voice asks behind me and I whip around. Nonetheless, Beatrice Prior stands in the doorway her skinny arms crossed over her chest. Her long blonde hair is pulled out of her face and braided down her back, she wears a baggy dark gray athletic tank top over a neon purple sports bra with black spandex athletic shirt, a black gym back is thrown over her shoulder and her feet are clad with neon yellow and black Nike new balances with poodle socks(16) folded down so they're not knee-highs. Dance clothes. I try to come off cool and nonchalant.

"I'm in this one," I state and point to the picture I was previously looking at. She nods.

"I remember that. Zeke beat you," I laugh at her comment. "So you're here now, living here," she says.

"Yup... In your room..." She raises her eyebrows. "I-I mean I'm in your room not living in your room with you like, even if I was living in your room it wouldn't be weird because I'm a respectable young man and I should just stop talking," I fumble and she laughs a little. "I was just looking for the bathroom," I say tiredly.

"Yup because I totally live in the bathroom," Tris replies and my cheeks flush.

"Dinner!" I hear Natalie call.

"I have the basement from eight to eleven thirty PM every day. Don't even think about interfering with my studio time." And with that she leaves the room and leaves me standing here. Usually a girl that tiny with such an attitude would make me laugh but I don't know about Beatrice. Despite her size she seems to fill a room up with her witty comments and wide multicolored eyes. She's different in a perfect way and I know she's going to cause me nothing but trouble. I can't wait to find out what that trouble is.

TERMS YOU SHOULD KNOW (the numbers after the words you went whhhhaaaat after reading."

1: reel (real)- A soft shoe dance

2: lead- Your first step. Your lead in soft shoe is done twice on the right foot as opposed to a step being done on the right then left foot.

3: turnout- The turning out of your feet one of the most important things in any kind of competitive dance.

4: Vest- A boy's costume in the Irish dance word contains a dress shirt black dress pants, a tie (optional), and a vest. The vest is the show piece and usually has designs and/or bling on it. A new vest ranged from $700-1,000+.

5: Heavies- heavy shoes (also known as jig, or hard shoes. My school calls them hard shoes.) are like tap shoes. They are made of leather and the tips and heels are made of fiber glass. The heels are nailed in and the tips are glued in. Mine cost $175.

6: Reel Shoes (reel shoes)- Very much like jazz shoes but with a fiber glass heel. They're called reel shoes and not soft shoes because boys can only do the reel dance (girls can do reel or slip jig). Cost about $90-125.

*: Champion dancers usually have a set of practice hard and soft shoes and then a competition set. The competition set is usually newer and lots of girls now have sparkly buckles for their heavies and/or colored and/or decorated soft shoes.

7: Oireachtas (o-rock-tis)- regional competition.

8: Nationals (aka: North American Nationals or NANs)- The National competition for Mexico, Canada, and the US.

9: Worlds- World Irish Dance Championships (the big leagues amigos)

10: All-Ireland's- Ireland's National competition.

11: Great Britons- Britons National Competition.

12: Grade(s): The grades are the levels before Championships (beginner to prizewinner)

13: Most Irish dancers have to spray tan. No we don't do it to look pretty. Lets face the facts, most Irish Dancers don't have golden brown legs and when you're on stage the lights will wash you out (especially if your dress has a white skirt cough like me cough).

14: When you get a sash at major competition (top ten get sashes if not its top five I forgot pretty sure I remember seeing a 7th place sash at my Oireachtas two months ago) you wear it the whole weekend. It's a tradition.

15: Feis (fesh)- An Irish dancing competition.

16: Poodle Socks (aka: bubble socks)- the socks a dancer is required to wear, in a competition most dancers will have crystals on their socks.

Idk it got messed up: Majors- A major competition.

**AN: so this idea has been on my mind FOUREVER so I just decided what the hell and whipped up a little outline and here we are... Enjoy :)**

**Don't fourget to...  
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	2. Chapter 2

TRIS

"I ate at Bud's," I tell my parents as I stand in the doorway of our gray-blue dining room. The whole house seems to be painted muted gray colors. Funny coming from a family who dresses up in full glam and sparkle at least once a week. I hold my practice hard shoes with only the tips of my fingers on my right hand, a habit I developed from my father (who is now frowning at me).

"You always eat twice after workshops," my mother says softly. "Is something bothering you?" She asks, taking a bite from her French fry that looks simply delectable. I plop into my usual chair and set my hard shoes on the floor next to me. Our whole seating chart seems to be corrupted today. My father, who usually sits diagonal from me, is sat at the head of the of the table which is not often used. My mother is across from me, where Caleb usually sits, Caleb sits next to her and the chair next to me is empty. Amazing.

"My friends are traitors," I grumble as I fill my plate with a burger and a heaping pile of fries. My friends always wonder how I eat so much and still manage to stay as thin as I am. I usually reply with a pun or a stupid joke.

"Is this about Tobias?" My mother asks. I shake my head trying not to be too obvious. My mother's green eyes bore into the side of my blonde head. She knows me too well. My father and brother also stare at me as I take a small bite from my burger.

"Fine, yes it is," I admit "He's like ten feet tall! How am I supposed to compete with something like that? I don't- I just don't want to be compared to him. I don't want my friends to keep score with us like its a game." I sigh and my father takes my small palm in his, rubbing small circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. "I don't want to hate him because of other people's opinions." I say finally.

"Who?" Four stands in the door way. He wears new clothes, a pair of straight dark jeans with a dark blue t-shirt that matches the color of his eyes almost perfectly. I can tell he just showered since is curly dark hair glistens a bit with water. By the look in his deep set eyes he knows I'm talking about him and this payback for my bitchiness before. I bite the inside of my cheek and advert my gaze. My father lets go of my hand as my mother begins to pile food onto Four's plate. His question goes unanswered.

"Hope you're not a vegetarian,Tobias," my father jokes as he passes Four's plate to me which I then pass to Four with a wrinkle of my nose in his direction.

"No sir." Four laughs and Caleb mumbles something along the lines of 'I have lost all hope in humanity,' as he stares down at his sad looking veggie burger. It must be hard for my dear brother Caleb being around meat eaters all the time. My brother talks to Four intently as I eat my burger and excuse myself from the table after what seems like hours of playing with my growing cold French fries, and retrieve my hard shoes from the floor. My mother stares at me as I walk through the door that leads to the kitchen. Once I'm out of the kitchen I grab my phone off the piano in the living room and climb the stairs slowly because I know my father doesn't like it when we run on them. I shut the door to my room quietly and pick my black Adidas gym bag I dropped on the floor before dinner up. Throwing it in the light blue wicker basket in my closet I plug my iPhone 5 into the dock on my nightstand and place my hard shoes on my desk for eight o'clock. I open up Pandora and _Fallout Boy_ begins blaring from the pristine white speakers. I grab the book I'm currently reading, _Clockwork Angel_ by Cassandra Clare, off my maple wood bookshelf before flopping onto my light blue bed spread and cracking the thick novel open.

_Tessa glanced around. The path had narrowed. It was now a dark trail leading between high twisted trees. Tessa could no longer see the sky, nor hear the sound of voices. Beside her, Jessamine had come to a halt. Her face creased in sudden fear. "We've wandered off the path," she whispered. _

_No, really._ I think sarcastically. I didn't like Jessamine so far. She didn't like Will I mean how could you not like Will Herondale? He was just like Jace Lightwood but he was even better since he was a brunette. As I continue to become lost in the secret world hidden in seventeenth century England I can feel my eyelids drooping. My feet ache and everything seems to tip sideways as I doze off.

The Marimba ringtone blares from my speakers alone with a random _Fallout Boy_ song as I jolt awake. I check my watch, eight o'clock. My studio time. Jumping up I quickly re-tie my hair and grab my hard shoes off of the desk and my phone of of my nightstand before venturing into the hall. I can't help but notice that Four's door is open. I look inside long enough to see that he's lying down on his back, on his back, his long tanned limbs stretches out around him. I step into the room and Four looks up, pulling his headphones out of his stick-out ears. "Good. I thought you were dead for a second," I comment and he smiles a bit. "We leave at eight tomorrow morning. I'm going to practice," I inform him and he nods.

"I'd like to see you dance alone sometime," Four says as I'm leaving the room. I turn to him a little baffled. Four has strange eyes, deep set and surrounded by long curling lashes. let are a strange dee. And dark blue that could be easily mistaken for black.

"O-Okay," I reply biting the inside of my cheek.

The studio takes up the farther half of the basement. The part you walk into has work out equipment and a small living area with a TV and an old over stuffed sectional. There's also a huge rack of DVDs and a mini fridge on this side. The other side is a different story. The walls are mirrors and the floors are made of plywood and there are speakers in every corner that are connected to the dock in the corner. I tie my hard shoes tight the way my mother taught me to when I was a little girl, pulling the laces and wrapping them around the arch tightly three times before making a double knot. I stretch before standing and turning on a slow jig to warm up, doing simple batters(1) and toe stands(2) before quickly doing my three jig steps so come January it isn't too rusty(3). Once the song ends the hornpipe(4) begins playing and I reach for the remote, raising the volume so loud that is vibrates my bones. The music is everywhere, filling my body, the music is my blood. The music is the adrenaline I run off of. The music replaces the marrow in my bones. The music is everywhere, everything. The music is me. The intro is over and the fiddle, accordion and piano play in a perfect harmony as my feet hit the ground.

My shoes pound into the plywood as I thunder into the step. _Rock(5) rock, heel drop,_ I take satisfaction in the amount of noise I'm making. _Jump turn jump turn, point out in_, my heart practically beats out of my chest. _Toe stand toe toe toe treble(6) and treble and treble_, I know I'll have a killer migraine later but I don't care. _Treble and treble and back treble and treble and treble and hop slow half spin,_ my feet point against the floor as I enter the end of the step. _Treble and hop slow slow half spin._

TOBIAS

"She hates me," I say into my phone halfheartedly. I lay sprawled out of my navy bedspread, staring at the ceiling.

"No she doesn't. That's just how Tris is, she hates everyone," Zeke assures me an I sigh into the phone. "Even if she does hate you why do you care?" Zeke asks an I quickly search for a logical answer other then I want her to like me.

"We're living together for one thing," I reply cooly. Not really a lie.

"Just don't get on her bad side," Zeke advises.

"What's her bad side?"

"Oh you know the usual, sarcastic, doesn't want to be in the same room with you. She'll fidget too, bite the inside of her cheek or wrinkle her nose at you," he basically lists all the things Beatrice Prior has directed at me all day. I don't get it. She was so nice to me in school, what happened?

"Well shit,"

"She's done everything I listed hasn't she?"

"I'm screwed,"

"Well..." Zeke says in his I'm-about-to-tell-you-something-you-won't-like voice. "This may or may not be my fault?" He tells me but it comes out more like a question than an answer.

"Zeke, what the Hell did you do?" I ask sitting up and trying to massage the headache out of my temples.

"Uri did stuff too!" Exactly like him, throwing his brother user the bus. I roll my eyes and stifle a chuckle. I stare at the phone waiting for his reply and I hear him sigh almost as if he can see my death stare. "_WekindamaybebustedTris'chopstodayaboutyoutogetherangry_!" The words flow out so fast that I can barely make them out.

"Zeke!" I below into the phone, face palming. I sigh a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow if you do anything like this again I will throw you out a window," I grumble.

"Love you too sweetie," he retorts sarcastically.

"Go to sleep you idiot,"

(1): Batters- A hard show move. When a dancer drives forward with the tip of the shoe to make a sound.

(2): Toe Stands- Stolen from pointe dancer. When a dancer stands enpointe for a certain amount of time to the music.

(3): Champion dancers switch hard shoe and soft shoe rounds every year with a new age group. My teachers make me me do my opposite steps at least once a class so they don't look terrible when I have to do them the next year.

(4): Hornpipe- A hard shoe dance. The opposite of Jig and the pair to reel (a soft shoe dance.)

(5): Rocks- Putting one foot behind the other and shifting your weight back and fourth so you have the illusion of rocking back and fourth. (Really hard to


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for not updating I've been really busy and my grandmother passed away so yeah **

TRIS

I flip the lights on in the second floor of the studio. Going around the room the stairs lead up to I plug in the two Soda machines and they whir to life. I quickly sweep the room and straighten the chairs around the circular linoleum table. The Dauntless studio is located in a huge old house and the upstairs is where the U12s(1) and up practice. I open the door to studio D where I'll be hosting the morning session of stretching, drills, stamina and things like that before the whole school mixes in the huge yard behind the house for regular dancing after lunch at Bud's Cafe. After flicking on all the lights upstairs I come back to studio D where I put my Adidas bag in the waiting room and sit with my back against the mirror before pulling my phone out. I begin texting Christina.

_Where are you?_

She quickly replies with those lightning fast thumbs of hers.

_omw how was 4? _

_4 was fine I was the jerk _

_? _

_I dont know what came over me I was just total bitches r us _

_seems like you were..._

_dont say it_

_I WILL MURDER YOU IF YOU SAY IT_

_jealous _

_youve just earned yourself a one way ticket to murder town_

_scary_

_dont test me _

_maybe youre not jealous and you just have a crush on him and youre so crappy with emotions that you had no other way to channel your undying love _

I'm about to reply when my phone is plucked from my fingers. Great now Christina is going to think that I actually like him, which I defiantly don't, because I'm not replying. "Slacking aren't we now, Prior?" Amar asks. I roll my eyes and stand.

"Morning, Uncle Amar," I say casually and his face scrunches up at the word uncle.

"We talked about the whole Uncle thing. It makes me feel old," Amar says. Amar is my mom's younger brother. Everyone in my mom's family is adopted. My uncle Max and Amar are blood brothers but adopted from Nigeria and my grandparents adopted my mom from Ireland when she was seven and she started dancing then and still managed to win Worlds twice. Amar is the youngest and he's twenty one.

"You are old Mister legally allowed to purchase booze," I tease and he nods proudly.

"I presume I will be supplying you with these beverages for your little Fourth of July fiesta?" He asks as I begin to organize the music station. Putting the memo pad on the drawer, along with the cloth CD case and placing the studio phone back on the cradle.

"Yeah for Nationals too Uri's friend can't co-" I begin but when I turn around I see Amar scrolling through my phone. "Hey!" I exclaim and Amar looks up.

"What?" He asks ask if looking at my messages was completely normal. I roll my eyes. Being with Amar is like having another clueless brother around, except he trains you ten times harder.

"Don't look through people's texts Senior Pedophile," I advise and he laughs.

"Don't call your uncle Senior Pedophile," he replies and I throw my hands up in the air. Does he want to be my uncle or not? "And who's Four? Is that some kind of code name?" Amar asks and I whip back around for the second time.

"Dude!" I exclaim and grab my phone back.

"What?"

"Did you actually read my texts?" I ask.

"No I was just scrolling through because of the pretty colors, iOs7; truly beautiful," he retorts sarcastically and I roll my eyes. I hit Amar on the arm and grab for my phone but he holds it over my head.

"Not so fast. Who's the Four guy?" I can't see a glint of protectiveness in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Tobias Eaton," Amar's eyes widen and he face palms before giving me back my phone.

"Duh," Amar says more to himself than me. "I'm such an idiot. I was the one who gave him that nickname,"

"Huh?"

"Well remember how I was helping Marcus train him before that special, The Big Jig? On TLC?" I nod a roll my eyes reminding him that I was in that one too. "Well he said he wanted something for people to remember him by other than his dancing so I give him a nickname Three, for how many times he won Words, but the TLC guys changed it to Four when he won again. It stuck," Amar informs. I plop down, my back against the mirror and Amar sits next to me as we pull our shoes and socks off for drills.

"You guys would make a good couple," Amar observes and and I turn to him in shock. "What? You would," he defends and I can't help but cracking up.

"Us... Together!" I spurt between racks of laughter. When I calm down I stare Amar seriously in the eye. "He hates me. I was a total bitch last night," I tell him.

"That doesn't mean you can't be nice to him in the future," Amar replies. "I swear Tris, I see him in you, the way he acts and thinks. Hell, you even dance like him," Amar assures me.

"So then we're alike. Just another annoying brother figure, like you," I reply before reaching over and messing up his hair.

"Denial," Amar replies whilst batting my hands away from his head. "But seriously, he's a great guy. You should give him a chance," Amar says and I turn to him.

"You had a crush on him didn't you?" I ask.

"I don't- I have George- I-" he sputters.

"It's okay," I assure. "He's pretty hot I'll admit that," Amar rolls his eyes and I nudge him with my shoulder. He nudges back and I end up falling over. I laugh before I hear someone in the other room.

"Tris?" I hear Four call. Amar gives me his wicked I'm-about-to-make-your-life-hell grin and I can feel my eyes widen. Amar stands.

"Ayo Four, in here!" Amar calls before swiftly sliding into the door of the bathroom and closing it. I swear under my breath and jiggle the handle, only to find that it's locked. I turn around and try to act natural as Four enters to room.

"There you are," he says giving me a weird look. "Why are you barefoot?" He asks and I look down at my pale feet that are turned out even when standing normally, battered, bruised and blistered there are several bandages on them. I wiggle my toes. Every dancer knows never to preform for long hours in bare feet since it can cause bad pain in your heel and arch.

"Stretching," I inform. "You stretch better barefoot, you can take your shoes off whenever you want. No socks," I add and he grimaces. "Oh come on, all of our feet are probably just as repulsive as yours," I tease walking towards the door. I hear him chuckle as I leave the room.

Pagey breaky

"Batter and toe click(2) down! Batter and toe click down!" I yell at the class. "I want to see that leg go over your head, Sinead! And Julia how do you expect to place if you can't get all the sounds out. Stop with the laziness kiddies!" I don't know why but teaching always helps me let off steam. I find the constant yelling and screaming stress relieving actually. Out of the corner of my eye I see Four, perfect as always his batters and strong and his leg goes unnaturally high over his head all while staying on time. The song ends.

"Okay guys, break," Amar tells us and I follow my friends into the small waiting room we usually occupy. Everyone knows this is our spot. I sit in my usual chair next to the door and I quickly glance at Christina who's eyeing me. I purse my lips before leaning down and taking a sip from the strawberry banana smoothie in her hand. Christina's intense stare breaks as she starts laughing.

"Ohhkay," Uri says breathily. "Some sort of telepathic brain thing is going on here," He observes pointing at us.

"Yeah, go talk it out," Marlene commands and Chris smiles sweetly at me.

"I think this calls for a..." Christina begins

"Don't you dare even suggest-"

"Porch Intervention!" Chris yells and I groan. Porch Interventions were something we would do from ages eight to about thirteen. Instead of fighting in the studio where there was always music blaring making it almost impossible to hear each other we would go out on the balcony that wraps around the building and fight. Don't judge, it was a good way to get anger out. A mediator would have to come out when it was really bad so we didn't end up pushing one another off the balcony. Porch Interventions are one of those pastimes you look back and laugh at. Key word pastimes. I swear under my breath as Zeke scoops me up, setting me upright so I'm standing before pushing me out the sliding door and onto the balcony with Christina. The door slides shut and I jiggle the handle only to find that it's locked. What's with boys locking me into awkward situations today?

"Okay, spill," Chris commands and my shoulders slump.

"I don't like him. Amar took my phone and I couldn't respond," Christina eyes me, almost as a right if passage.

"You're off the hook. For now," Christina says. "But mark my words Tris Prior, that boy is made for you,"

TOBIAS

Lunch eventually rolls around and we make our way across the street to Bud's Cafe, Uriah, Zeke and Lynn are teasing Tris about something which is making her cheekbones flush red which I find slightly endearing while Christina, Shauna, and Marlene talk about Christina's new personalized soft shoes. I began to drift away from them and Amar opens the door. When my father broke his foot in three places a few weeks before Worlds Amar trained me, he's the only person who ever taught me besides me father. "Hey Four. Long time no see," Amar says with a lopsided smile as I approach him. He holds the Cafe door open for me and I thank him as we approach the counter. Amar's eyes light up when the guy wiping the counter looks away from the chef he's talking to to shoot Amar a smile.

"Hi," the guy greets Amar before leaning across the counter to peck him on the cheek. This must be Amar's boyfriend. Greg? Jerry?

"Hey George," Amar replies and leans across the counter to give him a peck on the cheek. George.

"So this is the legendary Four?" George asks causing my cheeks to heat up. I wouldn't call myself legendary. I shake his hand. Amar orders both of us hamburgers and we sit at the counter.

"What's going on with you and Tris?" Amar and asks and I automatically groan and bury my face in my hands.

"Zeke ruined it, him and Uri got her all flustered by making her jealous of me or something," I say. "We were friends in school I just don't get it," Amar frowns.

"She's a tricky girl, she's so focused on certain things. Sometimes things that aren't her top priorities go right over her head, she wants to be the best and your titles are clouding her judgement," Amar promises. "She'll warm up to you eventually, truthfully I think you'd be perfect for you," he admits and my mouth drops open. Tris and I? I almost laugh. She's way too intense, that's a lot coming from one of the most intense people ever, she takes things very seriously and I don't think I could invest myself into someone so... Determined. Someone who cares so much. The very thought of being loved that ferociously sends a shivers down my spine. I've never been loved like that by anyone.

"She's not my type," I tell him simply and earn a laugh from him.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Four,"

at night, Four,"

**(1) u12- an age group. Short for under twelve. you're usually the same age as the Age ground as in like if you're u15 you're 15 it's confusing okay. **

**(2) click- when you switch your legs also knows as scissors. In hardshoes the heels of your shoes have to click together and make a sound**

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